


Educated Eyes

by nerdy_farm_girl



Series: Tumblr Fic [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Derek Hale Rarepair Week, F/M, First Time, Future Fic, Getting Together, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Stitches, alcohol mention, brief derek/braeden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/nerdy_farm_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia feels it all the way down to her toes, that familiar surge of excited desire that she hasn't experienced in years. She thinks about reaching for him, maybe dragging her fingers down his arm or hooking his ankle around his. It wouldn't take much, to move this not quite flirting into something more.<br/>But it feels like maybe it's too soon. She's reached a point in her life where she either wants it to be a real relationship or a one night stand, and with Derek, it could only be the former. And while he's hotter than the sun and she genuinely likes him, she's not sure she's ready for a full scale relationship right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Educated Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> if you would like more details on the injury in this story, please see the end notes.
> 
> (not betaed, all mistakes are my own)

The sound of the doorbell ringing seems to echo through the too big Martin house, almost too loud in the quiet that’s settled over the spacious halls and rooms. Lydia ignores it. Her mom is actually home, she can hear the tv blaring from down in the living room, and it's probably someone she knows anyways. All of Lydia's friends would either climb in the window (heathens) or send a text. She sighs and pulls her hair back, twisting it into a sorry excuse for a bun. Her senior project is due in three days, and she's in the final stages of editing her paper. She could've been done with it weeks ago, but senior seminar is her only class for the second half of the year, and she's dragging her feet, grasping at what feels like her last connection to her childhood.

It's like she's spent the last four years of her life racing to this point, more than ready to get up and leave, and now that it's here she's not so sure anymore. She knows she's more than capable of excelling at college, knows she can handle the course load and living on her own. Leaving the pack seems to be the most worrying thing. With the exception of Jackson, she had never made more than superficial connection with anyone outside of family. And then she met Allison, and everything changed. Allison might not be with her anymore (and perhaps that's another reason she doesn't want to leave Beacon Hills, the one place they have in common), but she _does_ have Scott and Stiles and Malia and Kira. Or at least, she has them _now_. She's not so sure what's going to happen in August when they all go their separate ways.

“Lydia! You have a visitor!” There's something in her mom’s tone that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It's not necessarily _bad_ , but it's not necessarily good either. With another sigh she saves her paper and stands, curling the too long sleeves of Scott’s lacrosse sweatshirt in her hands as she ambles down the stairs. Her mom’s waiting at the bottom, eyebrows waggling in a way that can only mean future embarrassment for Lydia. “Where do you find all these guys?” She whispers when Lydia pauses on the last step, lips lifting with laughter. Lydia rolls her eyes but can't help the way all of her senses go on alert. She has no idea who could be here looking for her, ringing the doorbell _and_ be someone her mother hasn't met before. It's… worrying, to say the least. History dictates that all werewolves are supernaturally attractive (with the exception of that Ennis dude, although apparently Kali thought he was hot), but she’s pretty sure her mom has met all the werewolves she actually _knows_. The only other person she can think of is Parrish, but her mom has met him too, and would probably be flirting with him instead of making weird faces at her. She takes a deep breath and straightens her spine, unfurls her fingers and focuses until she can feel the power humming beneath her skin. Lifting her chin she steps forward, rounding the corner to face the front door.

“Oh.”

It feels like a solid jab to the solar plexus, her breath leaving her in a rush. The remnants of the scream that left her lips over a year ago echo in her ears, reverberating inside her head in time to the hammering of her heart. She never thought she would ever see that particular set of eyebrows again, thought that low slung sweatpants and a gun pointed in her face would be the last memories she had of this particular werewolf.

“Are you okay?” Derek’s voice is higher than she remembers it being, although she can probably count the number of conversations they’ve ever had on two hands.

“What are you doing here?” The words come out too harsh, her tone only exaggerated as she lets her sleeves fall back down over her hands and crosses her arms. Derek doesn’t look all that abashed, in fact his posture seems to loosen. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the tattered book he has clasped in his big hands, the cover worn and illegible. She lets her gaze travel up his forearms covered in dark hair, over his broad chest and along the purple vein running up his bicep. He looks good, always has, but now he seems softer, sun kissed and messy haired with laugh lines in the corners of his eyes. He’s probably the only one that doesn’t look haggard and worn out after this past year.

“Scott mentioned that you’ve been learning your powers,” Derek starts, holding the book more securely in front of him. “I found this book, it’s the first one I’ve come across that has much information on banshees, thought you’d like it.”

Lydia holds his gaze as she take the book from him, watches as his eyes flicker blue when their fingers brush. She feels it too, knows it’s the death inside her, recognizing a victim it couldn’t claim.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, breaking eye contact only to brush by him, setting the book gently on the kitchen counter. She feels him move behind her, every single cell in her body hyper aware of his movements. Her scream is sparking just under her skin, itching to be let out, to protect her. Once she discovered them, her powers have been temperamental, like a horse locked in a stall for too long. The worst part is that she doesn’t even feel _good_ after, just feels drained and like she needs to sleep for three weeks.

“You smell like Scott.” Derek says it like an accusation, leaning against the counter beside her. Lydia’s reminded intensely of one of the last times she saw him, when she told the story of her grandmother in his loft. She’d felt a real connection to Derek then, couldn’t get the way he’d actually _listened_ to her speak out of her head for weeks. She shrugs one shoulder and feels Scott’s sweatshirt slip off of it, the neck stretched out from too many pair of hands pulling it off and on.

“We all swap clothes,” she explains, carefully opening the book. “But you know that already.” When she glances up at Derek he’s almost smiling, his eyes soft and fond. “How’d you get this book? Only three copies exist.”

“Oh you know,” a familiar voice makes Lydia jump, heart thudding in her chest and power surging towards her palms. She shoves her hands into her pockets and glares at Braeden, who looks all too pleased with herself. “He just dragged me across an entire content and spent half his inheritance.” Lydia turns her glare onto Derek, not even flinching when Braeden ruffles her hair.

When Braeden was back in town a couple of months ago, Lydia had taken it upon herself to clear the air. She admired Braeden’s lifestyle, her independence and her tenacity. It seemed silly to let the strange tension that had always existed between them hang their, so she invited her out to coffee. It came as a surprise to both of them that they actually had a lot of common ground. Braeden is bright, in a common sense way more than anything, she can keep up with Lydia easily, and the way she looks at things is refreshing. Lydia will never fully trust her, she can't trust someone who kills people for money, no matter the circumstances, but she _likes_ her.

“How much did this cost?” Lydia asks, watching the way the tips of Derek's ears turn pink when Braeden smirks at him. “I can't accept something this expensive.”

“Well there's definitely not a return policy where that came from Red,” Braeden grins, her fingers curling around Derek's arm. Lydia scowls at the nickname, her own fingers brushing reverently across the delicate pages in front of her. “Come on D, we gotta be in Seattle by noon tomorrow.” Braeden releases Derek's arm and brushes past Lydia, musing her hair again on her way towards the door.

“Lydia.” She jerks her head up, surprised to find Derek standing in front of her. With her bare feet he towers over her and she has to tilt her head back to see his face. She had forgotten how impossible his eyes are, swirling between green and gold and gray. “If you have questions don't be afraid to call, or text, okay?”

Lydia nods, words catching in the back of her throat when he curls a hand around the back of her neck and presses a kiss to the top of her head. It's oddly intimate, and normally she would brush this kind of thing off, but she's overcome with the desire to have his arms wrapped around her, to know what it feels like to be pressed up against his chest.

Before she can even think about what that means, he's gone.

 

* * *

 

If anyone was ever to ask Lydia if she thought about Derek Hale, she would deny it with a flick of her hair and an arched eyebrow. She barely even knows him, why would he cross her mind? But it would be a lie.

She thinks about him sometimes, when she’s flipping through the book he gave her, or when she’s down in the Hale Vault with Malia. She thinks about him every time she looks up through the trees behind her house and see the glaringly empty lot that used to be home to the charred Hale house. Sometimes she sees Scot smile at his phone and she wonders if it’s Derek, wonders what he’s up to now. She _tries_ not to think about him late at night, drifting off to sleep imagining big hands sliding across her skin and beard burn on her inner thighs. It’s not a conscious decision or anything, he’s just… _interesting_ , and if she doesn’t have someone to hook up with, he ends up being her fall back.

She doesn’t see him again for another year.

The pack is hanging out at Lydia’s pool, all of them returned from their first year at school. Lydia was surprised how well they managed to keep in touch, with a running group chat and weekly Skype dates and phone calls. It’s still good to be back though, watching Malia, Scott and Stiles horse around in the pool as Kira laughs from where she’s stretched out on a floaty. Hayden is making use of one of the new lounges Lydia’s mother bought for the season, ordering Liam to rub sun tan lotion on her back. Mason reclines on a lounge beside them, a book detailing the background of wendigos propped open on his chest.

Warmth settles deep in her chest, spreading slowly through her body with each bump of her heart. It feels good to be home, feels even better to be spending a day in the sunshine with her pack.

Of course, the part where Derek Hale comes out of her house carrying two bottles of water and a bag of chips is a little strange. He looks like the type of guy she would date, with his face freshly shaved and his backwards baseball cap and his Hawaiian print swim trunks. She’s been having a hard time keeping her eyes off him, she wants to eat him up with a spoon, although Hayden and Mason don’t seem to be stopping themselves from looking. Derek drops down beside her on the edge of the pool, his feet splashing in the warm water beside hers.

“So,” he says, lips lifting up into a smirk as he hands her a bottle of water. “You never called me…” Lydia watches unabashedly as he sips from his own bottle, head tilting back and throat bobbing.

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to,” she shrugs before leaning back on her hands. It’s a classic move, arching her back and pushing out her chest, letting her hair hang down her back. When Derek’s ears turn pink it feels like she’s won something, a pleasant heat curling in the pit of her stomach. “Now that I know you miss the sound of my voice, I might have to take you up on it.” She expects Derek to be blushing, eyes averted, when she looks back over, but instead she finds him smirking slightly, mimicking her pose.

“I'll be looking forward to it,” he practically purrs, voice lower than normal and eyes crinkling in the corners. Lydia feels it all the way down to her toes, that familiar surge of excited desire that she hasn't experienced in years. She thinks about reaching for him, maybe dragging her fingers down his arm or hooking his ankle around his. It wouldn't take much, to move this not quite flirting into something more.

But it feels like maybe it's too soon. She's reached a point in her life where she either wants it to be a _real_ relationship or a one night stand, and with Derek, it could only be the former. And while he's hotter than the sun and she genuinely likes him, she's not sure she's ready for a full scale relationship right now. Derek’s probably not either. According to Scott, Braeden and Derek decided to end things once Derek moved back to Beacon Hills. Braeden wasn’t ready to be tied down, and Derek needed to be near his pack. It sounds like they ended things amicably, and Stiles seems to think they hook up whenever Braeden is in the area.

She’s considering just asking Derek about it when a strong hand wraps around her ankle. Malia’s grinning up at her from the water, her eyes sparkling in a way that bodes of bad, bad things. Lydia opens her mouth to tell her off, but before she can even get the words out, Malia is dragging her into the water.

Derek can wait. She has revenge to exact.

 

* * *

 

 _So, you never called me_.

 

The words haunt her as she starts school again in September. They swim in front of her eyes when she’s studying, drift through her thoughts when she’s eating lunch in the dining hall. But she can’t just call him up. What would they even talk about? They may have spent some quality pack bonding time together over the summer, but not enough to make a random phone call seem normal.

So she continues to stew over it, trying not to think about the way his lips lift in the corners when he thinks something's funny, or how soft he looks around the edges first thing in the morning.

She’s been back at school for three weeks when a reason to call him finds her. It’s a Thursday night and she’s walking back to her dorm from a frat party, the campus almost eerily quiet. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, every shadow hiding a potential threat. The power surging in her palms wipes out any buzz she had worked up to, replacing it with hyper vigilance. Not for the first time, she wishes she could hear something other than her own blood rushing in her ears.

“Hey Lyds!”

She acts without thinking, swinging her body towards the voice, scream leaving her lips and power pulsing from her hands. Regret hits a second later, when she realizes it’s her roommate groaning on the ground beside her.

“Fuck.” She sighs and crouches down. “Come on Cara, get up.” 

“What the hell was that,” Cara hisses, taking Lydia’s hand and pulling herself up. “You screamed like a fucking banshee or something. Jesus Christ.” Lydia laughs nervously as they start heading towards their dorm, Cara’s arm slung over her shoulders.

“This campus freaks me out at night.” It’s not really an answer but it’s not actually a lie, and Cara seems to take it at face value.

“You’re telling me,” she murmurs sleepily, and Lydia can smell the cherry vodka on her breath.

They manage to make it back to the door without running into any trouble, and Lydia helps Cara into bed before she locks herself in the bathroom and leans against the door. Her first instinct is to call Scott, but she knows he has his first microbiology lab tomorrow. What just happened isn’t important enough to distract him from that.

 _So, you never called me_.

Just thinking about Derek’s voice calms the nervous beat of her heart, eases the anxious twist of her stomach. She presses his name before she can think better of it, holding her phone to her ear and trying to ignore the uncontrollable jumping of her knee.

“Lydia,” he answers on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m,” her voice breaks over the lie, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “No, not really.” She sighs and wraps a lock of hair around her finger, so tight that the tip turns purple.

“Do you need me to come get you?” She can hear the concern in Derek’s voice, and she knows he would be making the two hour drive in an instant if she asked. Just _knowing_ he would do that for her is enough to get her heart to settle even more.

“No, I, it’s not that bad, I just, well, I was walking home from a party by myself-”

“Well that was your first mistake,” Derek cuts her off, and she can hear the rustle of his blankets in the background.

“ _Anyways_ ,” she continues before he can add anything else, an unbidden smile pulling at her lips. “I was walking back to my dorm, and everything was just too quiet, you know, so I was focusing on my power like we talked about, and then my roommate pops up out of nowhere, and I kind of blasted her with my scream…”

“Is she okay?” Derek doesn’t sound all the concerned, his voice drifting off into a yawn.

“Yes but-”

“Did she realize you are supernatural or does she think you just screamed really loud?” He cuts her off again, and she just _knows_ his eyebrows are doing that thing when he knows he’s right.

“That I just screamed really loud,” she grumbles. “You’re not very supportive Derek.”

“I’m not going to help you get yourself more worked up, if you were looking for that, you should’ve called Stilinski. Now I know you have a nine am lecture, and it’s already three am, so you better get your little ass to bed.” Before Lydia can inform him that she has a _fine_ ass, thank you, he hangs up. And if she sits on the bathroom floor and smiles to herself, no one has to know.

That phone call seemed to open the floodgates, and soon she’s calling him almost every night. She talks about everything and nothing, from the newest information she discovered on selkie migration habits to the annoying TA in her Biochemistry class to how she heard that Sheriff Stilinski is going to propose to Scott’s mom on Thanksgiving and how Malia thinks that Parrish is dating the new deputy at the station. It surprises her at first when Derek actually _talks_. She had kind of expected him to just sit there and let her talk at him, but once she gets him started on something, it’s kind of hard to shut him up (she, Kira and Scott have a google doc going documenting the subjects that get him most fired up. The current leader is whether or not werewolves have the ability to knot. He hasn’t really confirmed or denied it, but he goes off on a spiel about how inappropriate the question is. Lydia likes to bring it up on purpose). They don't talk about this _thing_ that exists between them, and Lydia never brings up the fact that sometimes she wishes he was stretched out on her bed beside her. Sometimes she wonders if he ever thinks about her like that, ever wonders what her lips taste like or what she looks like when she comes. But she doesn’t want to rush this, so she doesn’t ask.

 

\-----

She’s walking from the dining hall to her dorm on a blustery November day when her phone starts to vibrate in her pocket. Derek’s name is flashing across her screen, and it draws a frown to her face. Derek usually only calls at night, when he knows she’s doing homework in her dorm.

“Hello?” She answers warily, feeling nervous without really knowing why.

“Lydia,” Derek’s voice cracks, and her knuckles go white around her phone. “I’m parked in the lot behind your dorm. Come get me.” The line goes dead before she can even ask any questions, but her feet are already taking her in the direction of the lot. Derek’s mom car is parked haphazardly in a spot, his face deathly pale behind the wheel.

“Jesus Christ,” Lydia huffs, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder and marching straight towards him. Derek swings the door open when she gets close, his other hand clutching at his stomach. “What the hell Derek?!” She hisses.

“I’m not healing,” he says, completely ignoring her question. “I need you to stitch me up.”

“How do you even know where my dorm is anyways? What are you even doing two hours outside of Beacon Hills?” She helps him out of the car anyways, zipping his jacket up to hide the blood staining his shirt. “Try not to look like you’re dying.”

Derek manages to roll his eyes at her before fixing a frankly terrifying smile on his face. He wraps his arm around her waist, and it might look casual to passersby, but Lydia can feel his fingers shaking on her hip. When she mimics the action her leans heavily against her, apparently forgetting that she’s only 5’3” and weighs a hundred pound soaking wet. They make it up to her room without running into anyone, but Lydia’s sigh of relief is cut short when she swings open the door to her room.

Cara is sitting cross legged on her bed, picking at her nails on one hand and scrolling through her phone with the other. Lydia watches the emotions flicker across Cara’s face, dreading what’s coming next when her expression finally settles on something between amused and aroused.

“I should’ve known you’d be into sexy older men Lyds,” she teases. Lydia’s considering denying it when Derek wraps his arms securely around her from behind, his face pressing against the crook of her neck. It would _probably_ be cute if she didn’t have one hundred eighty five pounds of muscle collapsing against her back.

“Yeah well,” she forces a smile and pats at one of Derek’s hands, not missing the fact that it spans across her entire stomach. ”I didn’t realize you were going to be here.” Cara’s nose wrinkles in confusion, before smoothing out into a smug grin.

“Oh that’s right! I forgot I had a meeting for a group project in the library!” She scrambles off the bed, her dark curls bouncing as she shoves her feet into a pair of Uggs. With a grin she slides past them, winking at Lydia on her way by.

Lydia drags Derek into her bathroom, pushing him up against the counter. She purses her lips and unzips his jacket, pulling it off his shoulders. The wound doesn’t seem to be gushing blood at least, the stain on the shirt still about the same size.

“Take off your shirt.” She orders, snapping her fingers in front of his glazed eyes.

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” Derek mumbles as he complies, slowly pulling his shirt over his head. Lydia ignores him in favor of wetting a facecloth. She examines the wound on his side, frowning at the thin cut. It isn’t wide but it seems to be deep, blood seeping from the wound but not clotting.

“What happened?” She asks, softer this time as she wipes away the blood. “Do you know why it isn’t healing?”

“I was…” Derek sighs, and when she looks up at his face, he won’t meet her eyes. “I was going to come visit you,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I stopped in Sacramento and ran into Peter.” Lydia freezes at the name, blood running cold. “Don’t worry, he’s… he definitely wants nothing to do with our pack anymore, but he’s still a dick. He just… I think it’s not healing because it’s psychological.” Derek finally meets her eyes, his own dark with something she can’t quite identify.

“I don’t have anything medical grade for stitches,” she admits, wiping absently at his side without breaking their gaze.

“Regular needle and thread will work.” Lydia nods and ducks back out into her room, digging through her desk with shaking hands. She finds the sewing kit her grandmother gave her for her eighth birthday and darts back to the bathroom. At the sight of an already threaded needle sitting on the top she lets out a sigh of relief.

“You sure this is okay?” She asks, pulling out Cara’s first aid kit and ripping open an anesthetic wipe. Derek doesn’t even flinch when she cleans the wound left by what she assumes to be one of Peter’s claws, and when she glances up he nods, jaw set hard. “So,” she says, not sure if she’s trying to distract herself or Derek by talking. “You were coming to visit me, huh?” Her hands don’t stop shaking, not when she pushes the needle through his skin, not when neat little stitches in hot pink thread pull his skin together.

“Yeah,” Derek admits after a moment. She glances up at him to find him watching her, eyes crinkling in the corners and lips curling into a soft smile. “I was.” He goes quiet, so Lydia keeps working, ignoring her trembling hands in favor of focusing on the job at hand. “I feel like I should be offended at being immediately classified as an older man.” He sounds so disgruntled that she can’t help but smirk, and when she chances a glance at his face, the color seems to be returning to his cheeks.

“I think it was _sexy_ older man, Der,” she corrects as she finishes, cutting the thread with a pair of nail clippers and tying it neatly.

“I’m only twenty six,” he grumbles. “Do _you_ think I’m sexy?” Lydia looks up from washing her hands to find him watching her carefully.

“What do you think?”

“That’s not an answer,” Derek honest to god pouts, his impressive arms folded across his chest and his lips pushing out just slightly.

“Okay,” Lydia dries off her hands before pushing between his knees, sliding one hand along his bare shoulder to curl around his neck. “How’s this for an answer?” She pushes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips against his, stomach dropping when he freezes. She forces herself to wait, one, two, three heartbeats, and then his lips part and he kisses her back, warm hands everywhere at once. Her fingers curl in his hair and scratch down his back.

“Lydia,” he breathes her name like a prayer, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, her nose, her chin. “I want…” He trails off, eyes wide with vulnerability.

“I know,” she murmurs, kissing him slow and hot until he melts against her, big hands slipping beneath the waistband of her skirt and pulling her closer. “I do have a bed and an empty dorm room we could be taking advantage of…” Derek seems to consider this for a moment, and then he grins. Lydia’s so distracted by the way his entire face seems to light up that she’s totally unprepared for him to scoop her up in his arms.

He kisses any protests away before she can even announce them, carrying her out into her room and setting her gently on her bed. Derek worships her, pressing soft kisses to each inch of skin as he unbuttons her blouse, fingers behind gentle as he pulls off her skirt and panties at once. He kisses up the inside of her thighs before licking one long strip up her folds. Lydia moans and arches against him, one hand curling around the back of his head, the other fisting in the sheets. His tongue flicks across her clit, over and over until she’s trembling, his lips and her thighs covered in slick and spit. She pushes up on one elbow to watch, totally unprepared for Derek to meet her gaze, eyes flickering between green and electric blue as he slowly pushes one thick finger inside her.

“Derek,” she moans, clenching around his finger. “More, please, I need more.” He slides two fingers in the next time, tongue still lapping at her clit as he curls them just right. Lydia’s arm gives out and she drops back onto her pillows, the muscles in her thighs twitching. “Fuck,” she swears when he sucks on her clit, entire body arching off her bed. He just keeps going, taking her apart with his lips and his tongue and his fingers until she comes silently, gushing all over his hand. She watches through heavy eyes as he sucks his fingers clean, smirking in an annoyingly smug way.

Lydia reaches for her bedside table without taking her eyes off him, pulling a condom out blindly.

“Oh, we don’t have to,” Derek says when he sees it, as if she wouldn’t _want_ him to fuck her.

“If you don’t have your dick in me in thirty seconds, we’re going to have a problem.” She throws the condom at him, smirking when he catches it against his chest. Derek just stares at her for a couple of seconds before jumping into action, pushing his jeans and briefs down over his hips and kicking his boots off in a hurry. His dick is just as pretty as the rest of him, slapping against his abs when it springs free. Lydia’s mouth waters; if she wasn’t so come drunk she’d probably have her mouth on it by now. Instead she just watches as he rolls the condom on and crawls between her legs, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She licks the taste of herself off her lips and hooks her legs around his hips, sighing when he sinks deep inside her.

“This probably isn't going to last long,” he admits into the crook of her neck, hips rolling maddeningly slow. “It’s been a while.”

“That’s hmmmmm, that’s okay,” she bites down on his shoulder, pulling a moan from deep within his chest. “Too busy thinking about me?” She’s not expecting Derek to pull back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes a burning beta blue as he continues to thrust.

“Something like that,” he replies, and then he’s kissing her, thrust speeding up and then stuttering, her name on his lips as he goes completely still.

“I promise I usually have a little more skill than that,” Derek mumbles into her hair a few minutes later, fingers tracing intricate patterns across her ribs.

“I expect you to prove that to me,” Lydia says through a smile, lifting his hand to her lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll need quite a large sample size, you know.” Derek hides his smile against the back of her neck, his arms tightening possessively around her.

“I like the sounds of that.” Lydia presses back against his chest as tendrils of warmth spread from her heart down to her toes. She likes the sound of that too.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Derek has a wound on his side that won't heal, and Lydia stitches it up for him. Some description of the blood and how he was wounded.  
> \- thank you for reading! you can find me on [tumblr](http://werewolvesandarrows.tumblr.com%22)


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